Of Despondence & Desire
by Bwatts1357
Summary: Basically angsty!Dean who has a little epiphany of sorts while sorting through his thoughts whilst in the shower. Smuttiness ensues. I suck at summaries, but it's a Destiel. xD


He was just supposed to shake this off, right? Just like every other goddamn thing that went to hell in his pathetic life. He was supposed to go get hammered, shack up with some chick, try and forget how screwed up his life has been since the fire.

But this…?

He just couldn't get passed this; and God only knows why-

Well, if the bastard even cared.

(Not fucking likely)

He'd never shown any interest in Dean's life before, why start now?

All the shit he'd gone through, and for what? Just to be stabbed in the back by someone he'd grown to trust with his life? The guy is basically family- No, scratch that.

Was family.

I mean, it's not like he hasn't been betrayed by someone he thought he was close to before.

But his _best friend?_

Hell, he was the one who 'gripped him tight and raised him from perdition', as the stone-faced angel liked to word it.

He was the one who helped him with everything.

Who _always _came when he called.

Who turned against everything he believed.

Who flat out rebelled against Heaven…

_All for Dean._

"_Dude, get a grip." _ He huffed out at his own annoyance.

He was starting to sound like some sort of jilted lover over here. And love, as sure as Hell, is_ not _what he felt for this prick right now.

If anything, he hated him.

He made him have hope that maybe, just maybe, there was someone still in this world that gave a damn about him.

Someone who may actually want him around for something other than warding off monsters, vamps, and ghosts and shit.

Maybe even love him in spite of all he'd done…

But, no.

_There was no one_.

Just Sam.

Dean had been an idiot to believe he could trust anyone else. Nobody gave a shit about him and his feelings and-

_Wait._

Was he really talking about his 'feelings' right now?!

He scrubbed a calloused hand over his face in frustration and took a deep breath.

He needed to focus.

Focus on the 14 hour drive ahead of him.

Focus on getting to Sam.

Focus on…finding some goddamn whiskey. (And a busty Asian one-night stand if he's lucky)

Nothing like some meaningless fuck to get his mind off of his heap of problems.

But for some reason, he doubted that even that would get him to forget about Cas…

I mean, why couldn't he get passed this? The guy screwed him over.

That's that.

If it was anyone else, Dean would've been over this by now. Hell, he was acting like a teenager girl.

The faster he gets to Maysville, the better.

It'd been almost a month since he'd seen Sam. Call it his big-brother instincts kicking in, but he was starting to miss the bitch-face making Sasquatch.

He knew that Sam would have questions about what happened in Newcomb, but for now he would just try and look forward to seeing that shit-faced grin of his, brightened by those puppy-dog eyes Dean fell for so easily.

Damn, he had missed his little brother.

11 more hours to go.

Turns out, the town of Maysville was so damn small that they didn't even have a decent bar.

"_Bunch of prohibitions_", Dean thought.

Looks like his distraction plan for the night was shot.

Awesome.

Well, at least he's got Sam to look forward to.

By the time he gets to the flea-infested hotel, he feels as if he's going to collapse from exhaustion.

Mentally _and_ physically.

Sam must be out getting himself some rabbit food, so Dean decides to jump in the not-so-great water pressured shower.

Even if it's not the greatest shower ever, as soon as the water hits his back, his muscles relax and all the tension and worries seem to fade away for at least a little while.

The only bad thing about relaxing…it brings back memories of the way it'd been before.

Before the fire.

Before the war between Heaven and Hell.

Before the threat of the Apocalypse.

Before he tortured souls in Hell.

_Before he met Castiel…_

He wished he had missed the moment when he came face to face with the angel that gave him hope. That pain-in-the-ass, gravelly-voiced, permanently-confused-faced fucking angel of the Lord.

The one he'd have died for and the one who'd done just that, and _so _much more for Dean. The one who…

"_Fuck!_" Dean shouted as he punched the flimsy shower door with his fist.

The bitter-tasting salt from his freshly shed tears melded with the once calming water pouring from the showerhead.

"_Suck it up, Winchester._" He scolded himself.

This was no time for a chick-flick moment.

It's _never_ time for that.

There's nothing he could do about it now. Cas was no longer any concern of his. No point in giving the guy any thought.

Dean was right.

All angels are dicks.

The tears eventually came to a stop and washed down the drain, along with any emotional strength he had left.

Dean was completely strung out. He didn't want to dwell on the negative right now. Instead, he tried to focus on the steady rhythm of the water hitting his back, his neck, his shoulders…soon, he was just as relaxed, if not more so, as he had been before his little freak out- whatever the hell that was.

His thoughts started to wander as the droplets rolled off his warm skin and the tension lifted once again.

He began to stretch and massage all the crooks in his neck and back from that long-ass drive. Man, did it feel good to just relax and not think, even just for a minute.

He just wished that he had some booze to numb his mind even longer.

Be even better if he had found that one night stand he'd been hoping for.

Not that Dean liked having to say the same old, '_Adios_', the morning after, but sex would sure be a nice way to distract him.

That'd be one hell of a distraction.

Oh well.

Looks like he'll have to do with his imagination.

Dean closed his eyes and focused on the way the steam cascaded over his taut, toned body.

His overworked muscles slackened as he started to imagine a pair of hands slowly massaging his thighs, inching farther in and up to his already hardening dick.

Normally, he'd be surprised, and somewhat ashamed, at himself for getting hard this soon, but it'd been entirely too long since he'd had the opportunity to do so.

He reached one of his rough, calloused hands down and lazily started to stroke himself to full hardness.

He then imagined his hands being replaced by long, slender, softer fingers gently pumping him at a slow, almost torturous pace.

Dean let out a guttural groan from the back of his throat at the thought of a pair of bright, piercing blue eyes flashing up to his half-hooded, lust-filled green ones.

He imagined the soft brushing feel of his fingers running through short dark hair; tugging just enough for it not to be painful.

A sharp ping of arousal went straight to his cock, causing it to twitch slightly at the thought.

He had always had a thing for brunettes.

Stroking himself a little faster now, he imagined those lovely hands being replaced by a pair of thin, slightly cracked, but warm lips ghosting over the place where his thigh met his groin.

Gentle nips soon were being placed on either side of his now-throbbing member.

Dean had to place one hand above his head on the grimy shower wall to brace himself for what his mind conjured up next.

With a smirk that would make Lucifer blush, a warm, wet tongue flicked over the slit of his weeping cock.

He let out a raspy '_Fuck, yeah._' as he used his thumb to wipe at the bit of precum leaking from the head of it.

The mention of Lucifer should've turned him off right then and there, but he was so close that it didn't even phase him.

He continued to bring himself closer to the edge as he imagined a hot wet mouth wrap around the head of his cock and then suddenly completely enveloping him as those blue eyes peer up at him with unadulterated lust.

Dean is so close as he pumps his hand harder and faster until he's panting hard and grabbing at the shower tile to try and steady his already-weary legs.

He can almost feel the vibrations caused by the moaning coming from the imaginary mouth that is currently, what he feels like, sucking the life out of him.

He imagines those slender hands forcefully clasping his ass cheeks, pulling him even farther into the deliciously wet cavern in front of him.

Those piercing eyes are latched onto his once again. They were so entrancing…with a flicker of adoration in them.

_But why were they so familiar?_

He racked his brain, trying to think of where he had seen those eyes.

He can't even remember what color eyes the last chick he'd been with like this had, so that was a no.

Hell, the last time he'd seen eyes as beautiful as these, they belonged to…

Dean suddenly stopped his actions as his eyes shot wide open and his mouth gaped like a fish.

He realized _exactly _why those eyes were so damn familiar to him.

"_Oh my God._" He mumbled in disbelief.

It all made sense.

The piercing blue eyes.

That short dark hair.

Those slender hands.

All of it belonged to Castiel.

To Dean's utter shock, the fact that he had been fantasizing about Cas this entire time didn't cause him to go limp…it actually turned him on more than he'd ever care to admit to himself. He found himself even harder than before and realized that he didn't care what the angel had done to him. All he knew was that he wanted this fantasy to become reality more than anything.

He wanted Castiel.

Dean let out a deep breath that he didn't notice he was holding in when he finally admitted the truth he'd secretly known for years.

His epiphany temporarily distracted him from how his cock was aching to be touched again, but he soon felt that pure desire and lust wash over his body once more.

Dean let out a low growl from in his chest as he quickly returned to stroking himself at a relentless pace.

He imagined Cas pulling off of him with an obscene '_pop_' and standing up the best he would be able to with two grown men in a not-so-roomy shower stall.

Just the very thought of Cas pressing his tan, toned body flush against Dean's while stroking him firmly, causing him to hiss in pleasure, was almost too much for him to handle.

His legs were shaking with anticipation and pure pleasure as he pumped himself harder and faster. His heavy pants and groans were all that the hunter could distinguish over the blood pumping in his eardrums. Dean lost any sort of rhythm he had going and could feel that familiar white heat pooling in is stomach.

He could almost hear the feral growl of the angel's- _his angel's_- command, voice deeper and more gravelly than usual, in his ear.

"_You are __mine__, Dean Winchester. Cum for me." _

He let out a slur of curses as he jerked his head back, eyes sewn shut, and came harder than he ever had before – shouting Castiel's name over and over until it was but a whisper on his lips.

He lazily pumped himself through his intense orgasm and let his breathing slow and return to normal.

As he came down from that high and the blood began to return to his head, his mind slowly started to function again.

"_Fuck._" He whispered to nobody but the showerhead.

"_What the HELL was that?_"

~Fin~


End file.
